Bitter pill continued…

On Saturday I ended up back at the hospital on my own. The medical management of our miscarriage appeared not to have worked.

I had been struggling the days before with people who contacted me with kindness and well intentioned messages or meanings. However sometimes people say or suggest something without truly understanding the situation or just trying to be kind with something to say.

I am good at self reflection and I was very aware that by Saturday my fuse was ready to blow inappropriately at one person who was the next to say something (the straw to break the camels back).

I was not expecting the next person to say something would be a professional nurse working in the early pregnancy unit (EPU) of the hospital.

I had found the courage and strength to return to the hospital on my own to face whatever plan they had next. I never understand who designs the layout of hospitals and it is a horrible path to walk to the EPU.

Firstly you walk past the maternity ward often bumping into the new parents leaving with their bundle of joy. Then on the other side you pass the maternity ultrasound department which is one big glass window so you can see all the expectant mums with their bumps. Eventually you arrive at the EPU who often support women like myself who are currently miscarrying. It’s like a continuous slap in the face to get to this unit!

Due to Covid19 I had to ring the unit from outside the doors and a nurse came to them to allow me in. As the smiling nurse met me her first question was “how many weeks pregnant are you”? I wondered how this could be the first question in a unit that deals regularly with miscarriage. Surely the opening question should be something like “why have you come today”?

I surprisingly held myself together and the nurse in fact was extremely caring and considerate after that question which was swiftly followed with many apologies. She went off to speak with a consultant and get a plan for me, while I quietly congratulated myself for not screaming in her face and somehow holding it together.

Whilst sitting in the waiting area I overheard the nurse talking about someone she was discussing how unbelievable the woman’s pregnancy losses had been and what an awful ordeal she had been through. I instantly thought to myself that I needed to meet this woman as maybe we could support each other. That’s when the nurse said that the woman was in the waiting area. I was the only woman in that area, she had been talking about me.

It surprised me a little that the two nurses who had dealt with me (both with 20 years experience) were moved by what Neil and I had lost and just how many different pregnancy losses we had endured. They even said this to me and both seemed determined to help us as much as possible if we were to fall pregnant again.

I felt relieved to have a plan going forward but I felt anxious that this baby was still inside. Similar to Kora and Ava my mind and heart had accepted the reality that there was no longer a heartbeat but my body didn’t seem to want to let go.

I was given a progesterone tablet to take which helps tell your body you are no longer pregnant. I was asked to return on Monday for four more vaginal pessaries to repeat the same process only this time they wanted me to stay still for 2 hours once they were inserted.

The progesterone tablet started something as my body began to bleed heavily. After attending hospital Monday I came home and followed the instructions. It’s a harsh reality to put them inside you to end your pregnancy. With Kora and Ava and the heterotopic pregnancy everything was carried out with medical professionals or by them. This was the first time we had to manage it ourselves in our home environment.

The idea is that the pessaries work by preparing your cervix and making your womb contract to help push out the pregnancy (like labour). Apparently it can be very painful which is why they also give you painkillers.

I say apparently as on both occasions this time using the pessaries I have felt nothing. Most women have quite strong period-like pain and cramps and some find the process very painful, especially as the “pregnancy tissue is expelled”.

Talking about the baby…Neil and I had no idea if my body had passed the baby or not. I had passed 3 larger than normal blood clots but nothing was obvious. As I had no pain we were unsure if the medication was even working. Therefore it was back to the hospital I went.

I had a scan on Thursday. The sonographer and nurse both informed me that there was no sign of “product”. By this they mean the baby, sac and placenta. It’s another medical term that is banded about although the nurse did apologise before saying it, which makes me wonder if we really should review the medical terminology now we are in 2020 and understand how awful pregnancy loss is to the parents.

So, you’ve guessed it…we had obviously flushed our baby down the toilet. I’m personally still not sure how I feel about this knowledge, it is still very early days and both my body and heart are trying to heal and grieve. It does however add to my self worth and confidence battle as my mind screams at me “see, you don’t deserve to be a mother as you couldn’t even distinguish your baby”!

We believe the medication didn’t work as it is very unusual for the woman not to have pain. We think my body took care of the loss to the point where it did it naturally. We have learnt so much again, a different type of pregnancy loss and a different experience and outcome.

The loss is still as overwhelming and heartbreaking as the others. We had three scans and saw our babies heartbeat so no matter whether you call it a fetal pole, product, pregnancy tissue or non viable pregnancy it was and will always be our baby.

We were expectant parents who felt a little safer in the knowledge that our little speck had a heartbeat. We embraced what we thought was our rainbow baby.

We made plans again, we talked about when we would feel ready to prepare and purchase things, we talked about another sober Christmas and the possibility of the babies arrival being earlier during the festive time. We all protected me as an expectant mother during Covid19. We shared our joy with those closest to us.

Even when those niggling fears crept into our heads we pushed them aside with love and hope that this time we would bring our very own living bundle of joy home.